The Kiss
by StarshotFourteen
Summary: In which Emmeline Vance witnesses the tragic demise of her childhood friend, Barty Crouch Junior.
1. Her

**AN:** This wonderful first part has been written by my friend M.B. (known here as kreaaprine) during our late-night brainstorm session of small HCs regarding Barty Crouch Junior and Emmeline Vance. _Thanks for giving me feels dear._

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Barty sat slumped in his seat, the effects of the veritaserum finally melting away so that his brain was his own once more. Never had he felt so weak ever since Azkaban; never had he felt so weak after the betrayal that had ended his _life_. But now nothing mattered anymore. He was to receive the Dementor's Kiss as punishment for his years of loyal service to the Dark Lord. A dark cackle left Barty's mouth as he sat up in his seat, his eyes hooded from fatigue, his body sore from overexertion. _I will be regarded as a hero!_ His own words echoed in his mind as the door was opened by a familiar figure followed by a hushed murmuring and a coldness akin to the worst despair. "Emmeline...Vance?" Eyes growing wide with shock, Barty felt his mouth fall open as he looked on at the woman he had not seen ever since his imprisonment in Azkaban all those years ago. It had all been her fault. _Hers_. This woman's fault. A shudder went through his body as he tried to sit up straight, hatred blazing in his eyes as he attempted to grab the wand that wasn't there, to shoot the hex that he could not use. "_YOU!_" Spittle flew through the air as the man let out the bloodcurdling shout, a tear streaming down his face as the Dementor closed in slowly, ever so slowly, its mouth wide open for the final kiss Barty would ever receive.


	2. Gone

As the creature clamped its jaws down on the sides of Barty's face, the screaming by all means should have ended; yet there was still noise in the room, originating from a different source. It came from the ginger woman in the doorway, her shouted 'NO' dying off into a mixture of gasps and sobs as the inevitable reality unfolded in front of her eyes. The calm, rational part stashed away at the back of her mind somewhere knew what was going on, knew all the steps to this exact process, and perhaps that only upset her more. His soul, his very _soul_ was being scraped out of him by the Dementor's powers, sucked up into a tiny little ball of light that she would never be able to see - and then, when all was cleared out, the no longer hooded figure would consume it, feed off every single thing that had once comprised Barty Crouch Junior. Every brilliant thought to have ever gone through his head, gone, along with his memories and his emotions and his words.. Gone, just like that. It was worse than death, she knew that - there would be no rest for him, trapped inside the dark aura of this creature until eventually the last speck of light would flicker out and he'd be destroyed. There would be no service for him, no understanding for those who cared that they were left behind - he was a criminal of the worst kind, and still her heart was breaking for him. Even though she knew what he'd become, or had possibly been all along, she had always had the deep-rooted belief within her that her friend was still there somehow, down below the surface, repressed maybe, or restrained, but still there however damaged. Now even that part was gone, if it had existed in the first place.

When the Dementor pulled back at last, Emmeline's tortured cries finally subsided, though her pain did not stop - grief only hit her harder once the creature moved away and she was allowed a glimpse at the empty shell of her childhood friend. His head rolled back, eyes unseeing, mouth slightly opened as his lungs drew shallow breaths to maintain life within the body slumped down in the chair. She wanted to scream and curse and destroy everything she saw, just like he had been destroyed, but she knew she couldn't. Already she had gone too far, and she could hear the furious whispers of some of the Ministry workers - her colleagues, though she felt less connected to them now than ever - about her possible _involvement_ with the man. She despised that, the immediate assumption they must have been connected in that way. He'd only ever been her friend, and now she'd gone and repaid that in the most awful way possible. Though his most recent capture had not been her doing, she was the one who'd let them get their claws into him in the first place, and now she could see they'd never truly let him go, even after his improbable, impossible escape from Azkaban what must have been years ago (before she'd heard he'd died, it must have been, or how else could he have gotten out?). The woman had already mourned her friend once, and now she would have to do so again, nothing left but regret and the greatest surge of guilt, and memories of the boy she'd grown up with. Suddenly furious with even herself, she drew her wand, ignoring the hushed outcries from behind her, people no doubt starting to wonder if she was some sort of accomplice to his cause, perhaps.. But this wasn't about them, or the Death Eaters, or any of the other things that had seemed so important before.

Looking at his face once more, Emmeline closed her eyes, remembering vividly how it had looked all those years ago, young, alive, his eyes awake and alert, that stupid half smile on his face which she could never tell was real or not; the day he'd managed to convince her that his cause was _right_, and they only wanted what was best for their society, they would never hurt anyone.. Breathing in she remembered the nights they'd spent even longer ago, laying on the roof and pointing at stars, naming them all because they knew things like that; afternoons near the river by his house where they'd talk the greatest deals of nonsense and think themselves oh so very clever for it; the strained study sessions that had never quite been able to replace those moments, but at least she'd gotten to see him, talk to him even though nothing had been the same. As countless memories of Barty flashed through her mind, the woman opened her eyes again, her mouth finally seeming to cooperate as she spoke those two words ringing clearly through the room. "Expecto Patronum!" it sounded, and there it was, the brightly shining silver fox that she'd shown him only once (to brag about it of course, because his had never been quite as impressive); and it seemed more beautiful than ever as it darted through the room and went straight for the Dementor's throat, in the last glorious thing she could ever do for her friend.


End file.
